


It's Elementary

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elementary School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family Issues, M/M, Teacher!Combeferre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1439149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac is staying with Marius and Cosette for a while and goes to pick their daughter up from school for them while they're at work. He isn't prepared for her teacher, M. Combeferre, to be so devastatingly handsome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Elementary

"Courfeyrac, sweetie, you need to stop moping," Cosette says, stroking a hand through his hair and sitting down beside him on the couch. 

"I'm not moping, I'm job-hunting," Courfeyrac replies, nodding at his laptop. "Okay, and maybe also moping."

Cosette bumps her shoulder against his. "We have strict rules about moping in this house. Put the laptop down, Courfeyrac, we're going to make hot cocoa."

"But job-hunting," he replies, holding onto his laptop. "The sooner I find a job, the sooner I can stop imposing—"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that you're _imposing_ ," Cosette says and the smile that she gives him is a little terrifying. "You know that Marius and I are more than happy to have you staying with us."

"Yes, but—"

"And it doesn't even _begin_ to make up for the fact that you let him have the spare room in your apartment without even charging him rent when he and his grandfather weren't getting along, back in university."

"But Cosette—"

"Hot cocoa," she says. Courfeyrac shuts his laptop with a sigh and gets up, following her to the kitchen.

Cosette has timed it so that the hot cocoa is done and poured into four mugs, complete with marshmallows, just as Marius walks through the door hand-in-hand with their six year old daughter.

"It's Uncle Courfeyrac!" she cries, running towards him as soon as she sees him.

"Jeanne!" he bends to pick her up. "Oof, you've grown bigger since the last time we did this."

"I'm _six and three months_ ," Jeanne informs him, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. "Of course I'm big."

"Uncle Courfeyrac is staying with us for a while," Cosette says with a smile. "For as long as he needs to. He can help around the house. And maybe pick you up from school, Jeanne, so you don't have to go to after-school care."

"Yeah," Courfeyrac agrees. "Uncle Courfeyrac can definitely do that."

"I'll write a letter to her teacher to explain that you'll be picking her up," Cosette tells him. "Jeanne will be so happy to be able to play with you while you're staying with us. Okay, Jeanne, you and Papa need to wash up if you don't want your cocoas to go cold."

"Yes, Mama!" Jeanne runs off as soon as Courfeyrac puts her down. Marius smiles fondly after his daughter and follows her. 

"I'm sorry about the circumstances surrounding it," Cosette squeezes Courfeyrac's shoulder, "but I'm very happy to have you staying with us for a while, Courfeyrac."

Courfeyrac smiles, nodding gratefully as they both sip from their mugs and wait for the other two to return.

Ever since he left high school, Courfeyrac has been working at his father's law firm. He worked there throughout his law degree, then after he'd gotten his CAPA. His father always had big plans of Courfeyrac taking over the family business, right up until the point that Courfeyrac had felt comfortable enough to let his parents know that he's gay. 

Now he's been disowned, kicked out of the firm and has most of his possessions in storage because he can't afford to stay in his apartment any more. He's incredibly grateful for the fact that Marius and Cosette are letting him stay in their spare room, but he's the one used to helping others, not accepting their help. It's taking him quite a bit of time to get used to it.

"You'll be fine, Courfeyrac," Cosette assures him, because he's clearly spent so much time with both her and Marius ever since they started dating years ago that she can read his mind.

"Yeah," he agrees. "I'll get there."

:·:

Courfeyrac's entire life changes just a little bit past three o'clock on a Monday afternoon. Jeanne's school is within walking distance from the house and Courfeyrac is just near the entry gate when the school bell rings. Marius has written instructions for how to get to Jeanne's classroom and dropped the letter off for Jeanne's teacher that morning when he dropped her off on his way to work. All Courfeyrac needs to do is show up and introduce himself. He knows the teacher's name, he knows the way to Jeanne's classroom, it's going to be easy.

Except then he gets there and freezes at the door. He doesn't know what he'd been expecting to find, but it's certainly not this unfairly gorgeous man in his late twenties, tall and solidly built with a paint-spattered apron over his thick-striped sweater and jeans. He turns around and Courfeyrac's knees go weak because he's wearing horn-rimmed glasses and has stubble that Courfeyrac wants to reach out and _touch_.

They stand there, staring at each other, frozen where they are, until Jeanne cries, " _Uncle Courfeyrac_!"

Courfeyrac looks away, picking Jeanne up and spinning her around in a circle before putting her back down. "How's my favourite girl? Did you have a good day?"

"Yes! Look, we were painting with M. Combeferre today! I was painting our house with me and Mama and Papa and you were there too. Come on, I'll show you!"

"Now, Jeanne," the unfairly gorgeous man—M. Combeferre—says, stepping in her way and holding his hands to the side to stop her. "Remember that we've already talked about how we need to wait for our paintings to dry."

"But I want to show Uncle Courfeyrac now," Jeanne insists. "Don't worry, it'll be fine M. Combeferre."

"Jeanne," Courfeyrac says, laughing. "Listen to your teacher. You can show me later, when it's dried."

Jeanne turns back around to Courfeyrac and sighs heavily, taking his hand. "Okay."

"So I'm guessing that you are M. Courfeyrac, as mentioned in M. Pontmercy's letter this morning," M. Combeferre says with a devastatingly handsome smile.

"God, no, just Courfeyrac will do." 

"Combeferre, then." Combeferre extends a hand and Courfeyrac shakes it. "Are you… the brother of M. Pontmercy?"

"No, nothing like that," Courfeyrac replies. He vaguely realises that they haven't let go of each other's hands yet but does nothing about this fact. "Just an old friend. I'm Jeanne's godfather. Just staying with them for a while."

"A holiday?" Combeferre asks, then quickly snatches his hand out of Courfeyrac's hold when the mother of another student approaches him to ask about a class excursion in a week's time. Courfeyrac's hand is left feeling cold and he shoves it into his pocket, glad that his skin is dark enough that he doesn't blush easily. The mother leaves and Combeferre turns back to Courfeyrac with an apologetic smile. 

"I suppose I could consider it a holiday," Courfeyrac says. He's beginning to consider it a blessing, because it means picking Jeanne up from school every day of the week and seeing Combeferre. He can't even remember the last time he's wanted anyone this badly. 

"Uncle Courfeyrac, can we please go home now?" Jeanne asks, tugging on Courfeyrac's hand. 

"Oh sh—sure, cupcake. Grab your bag and we'll go."

"It was lovely meeting you," Combeferre murmurs, smiling at him. "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I suppose you will," Courfeyrac replies, grinning.

He doesn't say a word to Cosette about it that night but her giant smile when she comes home from work tells him that she'd _planned this_.

:·:

"Very nice use of colour," Courfeyrac says the next day, when Jeanne shows him her painting.

"Mama's wearing her favourite dress," Jeanne tells him, pointing at the pink dress Cosette is wearing in the picture. "M. Combeferre helped."

"Oh, did he?" Courfeyrac smiles, looking at the flower pattern drawn in blue pen. "I couldn't even tell."

Combeferre chuckles beside him. "She's a talented one, your goddaughter."

Jeanne is playing with the other children waiting for their parents, so Courfeyrac doesn't feel guilty turning his attention to Combeferre. "It was kind of you to help her with the dress. Cosette… made that dress, based on a memory of something her mother wore often, back when she was a child. It means a lot to her and she'll be happy when she sees it."

Combeferre smiles warmly. "I'm glad to hear it. But as I said before, she _is_ a very talented painter."

"Picks it up from her other uncle," Courfeyrac winks and is ready to internally screech at himself, until he notices the faint blush on Combeferre's cheeks. "I'm the good-looking uncle and Grantaire's the talented uncle."

"Well," Combeferre says quietly. "I won't deny the first part, though I highly doubt that you are untalented."

Courfeyrac beams, opening his mouth to speak, but a group of mothers choose that exact moment to walk into the classroom and Combeferre excuses himself with a small nod so that he can talk to them.

"Are you done talking to M. Combeferre now?" Jeanne asks, by Courfeyrac's side.

"Were you waiting for me?" Courfeyrac asks, torn between feeling pleased and guilty. He glances over in Combeferre's direction, but the mothers don't seem to be letting him go any time soon. Not that he can blame them. "Get your bag and we'll go."

Courfeyrac catches Combeferre's eye on the way out. Combeferre smiles at him and Courfeyrac winks in reply, grinning as he watches Combeferre bite his lip to keep his smile from growing.

Cosette corners him as they're cooking dinner together that night, raising an eyebrow at him. "So?"

"So…?"

"Combeferre," Cosette says.

"He's nice. He seems like a very good teacher."

"And?"

"I'm so gone for him, Cosette, it's _ridiculous_." Courfeyrac rubs a hand over his face. "Me and every other adult who sees him, I suppose. I don't even know how it's possible for one man to be attractive? Though I suppose he technically called me good-looking today, so—"

" _What_?" Cosette's face lights up. "I swear, Courfeyrac, if you're stirring me…"

"I'm not. He thinks I'm attractive. I think _he's_ attractive—"

"Ask him out." 

" _Cosette_. I only met him yesterday and we've had two conversations that probably don't even amount to half an hour."

"That never stopped you in college."

"Well, we're not in college any more," Courfeyrac replies, and sighs heavily. "Help me think of something witty to say tomorrow."

:·:

"Are you doing anything next Tuesday?" Combeferre asks, when they see each other the next afternoon.

"I… what?" Courfeyrac blinks. "What? No. I don't think so?"

Combeferre smiles. "There's a class excursion to the children's museum and I could do with a chaperone. If child-wrangling for three hours sounds like your kind of thing."

"Oh." Courfeyrac's eyes widen. "Yes. I could definitely do that. I'm frequently told that I'm good with children, so I suppose we could put that into practice."

Combeferre nods. "Wonderful. We leave at nine-thirty in the morning. You could walk Jeanne to school and stay until it's time to leave?"

"Sounds good to me," Courfeyrac replies, and finds that he can't remember _any_ of what he'd prepared to say. Instead, he ends up asking, "What are you doing tonight?"

"Ah… lesson plans, unfortunately. But I'm free on the weekend? And Friday night."

"Friday night," Courfeyrac says with a nod. "Coffee? Dinner? Dinner and then coffee?"

"Both sounds good. Do you have your phone on you? I'll give you my number."

One of the mothers glares at Courfeyrac on his way out with Jeanne. He can't quite keep the grin off his face.

:·:

Courfeyrac spends the next two days filled with nervous anticipation. He has a job interview on Friday that he isn't even half as nervous about. It's early enough in the afternoon that he has plenty of time to get home and then go to the school to pick Jeanne up but he finds himself rushing on the way back anyway, just in case. He doesn't even spare a thought for the interview as he changes out of his suit and into a pair of jeans, spending longer on his hair than he did on his entire interview outfit.

"Your priorities, man," he laughs at his reflection. He's wearing skinny jeans and a checked button-down shirt and this isn't even what he's wearing to their date later. He has no idea why he's fussing so much, except the flurry of butterflies in his stomach only gets worse as the clock ticks towards three. 

He's usually a lot smoother than this. _Usually_ , he doesn't get nervous hours before the first date. 

He takes a deep breath and takes one last look at the clock, which tells him it's a quarter to three, and leaves the house. 

Over the past week, he's made friends with most of the mothers that are there at three on the dot. Most of them pick their children up and leave immediately, clearly still in work mode, but they make conversation while waiting just out of sight of the classrooms before school ends. Courfeyrac finds it extremely easy to get along with most people and they seem to like him well enough.

One of them raises an eyebrow at him with a grin. "Well, you're dressed nicely. Rumour has it that you have Friday night plans."

"And who would be spreading those rumours?" Courfeyrac asks. He doubts that Combeferre would appreciate the fact that they're being gossiped about.

"Really, Courfeyrac. Anyone with eyes can see the way you and M. Combeferre look at each other. My son asked the other day if you're going to get married."

"Oh my god." Courfeyrac covers his face with a hand.

The bell rings loudly and she grins. "Go get him."

Sadly, this isn't even the first time that Courfeyrac has been first through the door. Combeferre looks up with a warm smile that sets the butterflies in Courfeyrac's stomach aflutter once again because he knows that smile is meant specifically for him. Jeanne waves at him when she sees him but continues playing with her friends because she knows that they'll be a while.

"You look good," Combeferre murmurs, walking over to Courfeyrac after the first group of parents have left with their children. "Are you wearing this later?"

"I was going to change, but if you like it…"

"I do. Keep it on."

"For now," Courfeyrac whispers and winks, purely for the way it makes Combeferre blush bright red.

They talk about their days, with Combeferre excusing himself here and there to talk to other parents as they arrive. Courfeyrac glosses over his interview because it already seems like such a long time ago and he really doesn't want to think about it anyway. 

"I should probably go," Courfeyrac says, when they've been standing there and talking for a good twenty minutes. "See you in a few hours?"

Combeferre smiles. "See you in a few hours."

Courfeyrac doesn't stop smiling the entire way home with Jeanne.

Their date isn't for a while, because Courfeyrac needs to wait for Cosette and Marius to come home first. In the meantime, he makes an afternoon snack for Jeanne and goes through her homework with her before letting her go and play. He's not as nervous now as he was before, which he's glad for. At the very least, he doesn't need to freak out about what he's wearing or how he looks because he already knows that Combeferre approves. 

That doesn't stop him pacing in the lounge room until Cosette walks through the door. She hugs Jeanne tightly, picking her up before taking one look at Courfeyrac and laughing.

"Jeanne, how long has Uncle Courfeyrac been walking back and forth like that?"

"All afternoon!" Jeanne replies, the little traitor. Cosette laughs even harder.

"Sweetie, you know you have nothing to be nervous about."

"I have _everything_ to be nervous about," Courfeyrac tells her. "I don't know what he likes, what he doesn't like, what his political leanings are—"

" _Courfeyrac_." Cosette smiles at him. "It's going to be absolutely fine. That's what first dates are for."

"Pierre said today that Uncle Courfeyrac and M. Combeferre are going to get married," Jeanne pipes up. 

"We'll see, darling," Cosette replies, bouncing her gently. "Come on, Mama's going to change and then you can tell me all about your day. We'll let Uncle Courfeyrac stress himself out in peace, okay?"

:·:

"Just reminding you," Marius says at the door as Courfeyrac is about to leave, "it's completely fine if you're not coming home tonight. Just text me at some point to let me know either way, so I don't end up attacking you with a bat on your way into the house."

"Like that time you ran shrieking at Grantaire because you thought he was breaking in," Courfeyrac laughs. "You didn't even have a bat back then and I think Grantaire was too terrified to move because of the shrieking."

Marius turns pink. "Exactly. You don't want me shrieking at you sometime past midnight. And if you're spending the night with Combeferre, make sure you use—"

"This is so embarrassing," Courfeyrac mutters. "Did I do this to you on your first date with Cosette?"

"You did _worse_ ," Marius reminds him. "You enlisted the help of Grantaire and sat me through labeled diagrams."

"Oh." Courfeyrac grins. "That's right. And it helped."

"You'd better go before you end up running late," Marius says, all but pushing Courfeyrac out of the door as his face goes from pink to crimson. Cosette's laughter from within the house says that she could most definitely hear every word that was being said.

Combeferre has given Courfeyrac clear instructions to his apartment, complete with directions to the visitor's parking. Courfeyrac parks his tiny fuel-efficient car and takes a deep breath before getting out and finding Combeferre's door. He only needs to knock once before Combeferre answers, looking unnecessarily nervous and—well, devastatingly handsome isn't even the word for it. Courfeyrac isn't quite sure that there are words that do Combeferre justice.

He's wearing a dark blue sweater vest that stretches across his shoulders and there is nothing in the world that Courfeyrac wants more than to be in his arms right now.

"Hey," Courfeyrac says with a grin. 

"Hello." Combeferre smiles, pushing the door open a little further. "Come in."

Combeferre's apartment is cosy and the first thing that Courfeyrac notices is that there are books everywhere. The walls are completely lined with bookshelves and even then, they're packed to bursting and there are piles of them everywhere. Courfeyrac turns to Combeferre, who is leaning back against the shut door and watching him carefully, and his cheeks are already hurting from smiling so much. He doesn't know how he's going to last the night.

"I really like your place. I like the fact that you probably own more books than the local library where I grew up."

Combeferre laughs quietly, ducking his head. He looks at Courfeyrac and hesitantly reaches a hand out. Courfeyrac takes it, letting Combeferre pull him closer. 

"Can I kiss you?" Combeferre asks, even as they lean into each other. "I think I've wanted to kiss you since Monday afternoon."

"Me too," Courfeyrac replies, tilting his face up to Combeferre's and meeting him halfway. 

They wrap their arms around each other and kiss harder and it's exhilarating even though Courfeyrac _knew_ they'd be physically compatible. He knows that they're both physically attracted to each other and provided everything goes smoothly, they'll at least end up having some good sex. The thing is, Courfeyrac wants more than that with Combeferre, is already convinced that they can be _much_ more than that. 

Provided that everything tonight goes well. Courfeyrac starts feeling nervous all over again. Then Combeferre moans quietly as their tongues slide against each other and Courfeyrac can't think about very much else, because he's too busy pressing himself closer to Combeferre and trying to draw that sound out of him again. 

"Fuck," Combeferre breathes, pulling away. "We should go."

Courfeyrac kisses Combeferre again, kissing along his jaw and to his ear. "Do we have to?" 

"We should probably make our dinner reservation," Combeferre says reluctantly. "We'll continue this later."

"Mm, that sounds good to me," Courfeyrac replies, taking Combeferre's hand again. "Ready to go?"

They hold hands on the way to Courfeyrac's car and as soon as he's parked and they're on their way to the restaurant, they take each other's hand again. Their table is by the large windows that look out onto the street and Courfeyrac pulls Combeferre's chair out for him, grinning as Combeferre stumbles over his words trying to thank him. They order their drinks to start off with and glance through the menu, deciding what they want before putting them aside to focus on each other. 

"So," Combeferre says, wetting his lips. "I've been wondering why you're staying with Marius and Cosette, but haven't quite known how to ask." 

Courfeyrac gives him a wry smile. "I got disowned when I made the mistake of telling my father that I'm gay. Couldn't quite afford to keep paying rent in my place, because I was working at my father's law firm and he made it very clear that I wasn't to come into work the next day."

Combeferre's brows draw together. "But that's unfair dismissal. There are laws about that."

"I know, but it's really not worth taking my father to court over it," Courfeyrac replies with a heavy sigh. "Trust me, I've thought about it, but the fact of the matter is that he can afford better lawyers than I can."

"It's not about how much you pay your lawyers—"

"It kind of is," Courfeyrac says, smiling without humour. "My father is a well-known corporate lawyer and well, I never really liked working there anyway. At least now I'm not expected to take over when I'm older. I don't think I could live with myself if I kept working there for the rest of my life. I've already been there since I started university and that was long enough."

Combeferre makes an unhappy sound and reaches across the table for Courfeyrac's hand. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Courfeyrac tells him. "I'm not. If he can't accept me for who I am, that's his loss. If nothing else, I'm grateful for the fact that it gave me the opportunity to meet you."

Combeferre's blush is obvious even in the low lighting of the restaurant. Courfeyrac smiles, squeezing his hand. 

"So are you looking to get into different kinds of law firms now?"

"Right now, I'm just looking for anywhere that will take me. I just want to get a job so I start making my own money and don't have to keep imposing on Marius and Cosette. As much as they insist that they don't mind it, and as much as I'm enjoying being a glorified babysitter for Jeanne, I'll feel guilty if I stay for much longer." 

"I have a friend who has been thinking about starting up his own law firm," Combeferre says, sitting up straight. "He's not particularly happy at the law firm where he's working at the moment either and, well, he's been wanting to start his own law firm since we were teenagers. He's always wanted to help out the people who would otherwise be at a disadvantage because of the system. At least I've managed to talk him around to the fact that starting riots in the streets probably isn't the way to go to make changes."

Courfeyrac laughs. "He does sound like the kind of person I'd like to meet." 

"His name is Enjolras. I think you'll like him." Combeferre drops his gaze to their joined hands. "I'll introduce you to each other sometime. Probably soon."

"Well, you've already met Marius and Cosette," Courfeyrac replies, "but I could introduce you to them _properly_ sometime, if you like. Not quite sure what Cosette is like when she's at the school but she's _hilarious_ when we're hanging out together and Marius is possibly the kindest, most caring person that I know."

"I would like to meet them," Combeferre says quietly. "I really, really like the thought of meeting each other's friends. I like the thought of dating you, Courfeyrac."

"Me too," Courfeyrac strokes the back of Combeferre's hand with his thumb. "I'd like to be your boyfriend. If that's okay." 

"More than okay," Combeferre replies, and doesn't let go of Courfeyrac's hand when the waitress returns to their table with their drinks and a notepad to take their order. 

The thought of food is such a distant one that Courfeyrac needs to double-check the menu just to remember what he'd decided on before. Combeferre does the same, which makes him feel a little better about it, and the moment the waitress is gone, they turn their attention to each other once again and the rest of the world around them fades away into nothing but background noise. 

The night passes quickly. They snack on their starter when it arrives while talking, but then their mains sit there mostly ignored because they're too engrossed in their conversation. Courfeyrac discovers that Combeferre originally wanted to study medicine, but had to take a gap year before university because his mother was ill. By the time she'd recovered after a lengthy stay in hospital, he couldn't afford the fees for medical school and ended up doing education instead. He's happy enough where he is for now, but he has plans to try medicine again later. 

"You would be a good doctor." Courfeyrac can imagine it now, can imagine Combeferre's bedside manner being wonderful, his hands steady even under pressure. "I'm pretty sure you're the kind of person who would be good at anything you do."

Combeferre ducks his head with an embarrassed smile. "I'm not good at first dates. I'm not good at _not_ being awkward."

Courfeyrac shakes his head. "I disagree. I think you've been wonderful so far and I love the fact that I can talk to you for hours and feel like no time has passed at all. I love the way you talk when you get passionate about something."

"I know some people who would disagree with that last bit. We had this staff meeting at the school a while ago because there was this student in one of our first grade classes who insisted that he wear his sister's old tutu to school. It was pink, had sparkles, he absolutely loved it and unfortunately, his teacher decided that she had an issue with it."

"Oh!" Courfeyrac sits up a little straighter. "I think I know the student you're talking about. Cosette was telling me about it a while back. Isn't he one of Jeanne's friends?"

Combeferre smiles. "We had a meeting to discuss whether or not we should allow him to continue wearing the tutu and, well. I believed that he should. Strongly. I may or may not have intimidated the rest of the teachers into agreeing with me, and then asked for him to be transferred into my class."

"Oh my god it was _you_?" Courfeyrac's eyes go wide. "Oh shit, I think I'm in love."

Combeferre, who is sipping from his glass, chokes quietly.

"I said that aloud, didn't I?" Courfeyrac asks, his shoulders drooping. "Shit."

"Yes you did." Combeferre replies, but the way that he's smiling says that he doesn't really mind all that much. "I'm glad you share my point of view."

"I probably would have been that kid," Courfeyrac replies. "If I had a sister to steal tutus from. She would never have gotten them back." 

Combeferre laughs quietly, reaching for Courfeyrac's hand again. Courfeyrac is relieved that he hasn't made things awkward. If anything, he feels even more comfortable with Combeferre now. 

"We should get the bill," Combeferre murmurs. "Then perhaps we could relocate back to my place? I would really like to kiss you again, but I'm not particularly fond of doing much more than hand-holding in public."

"We're probably going to need a room for the way I want to kiss you anyway," Courfeyrac replies. "Let's go."

Perhaps one day, Courfeyrac will tire of finding ways to make Combeferre blush, but he doesn't think it's going to happen any time soon.

:·:

When they're alone in Combeferre's apartment, the nerves return all over again. They both stand there, watching each other, hesitating. Combeferre clears his throat awkwardly and smiles, reaching his hand out for Courfeyrac again.

When they kiss each other this time, it's gentler than before. They take their time with each other and Combeferre pulls Courfeyrac over to the couch. They pull apart just long enough to sit down before kissing again. Courfeyrac strokes his fingers along Combeferre's jaw, smiling at the bristle of his stubble. Combeferre turns his face to the side, catching Courfeyrac's hand with his own and kissing his fingers. 

Courfeyrac can feel himself melt against Combeferre. He hides his face against Combeferre's shoulder because he's certain that he's blushing hard enough that his entire face is red. He hears Combeferre chuckle softly and they turn to each other, grinning too hard to kiss. They rest their foreheads together and Combeferre's hand comes to rest on the back of Courfeyrac's neck.

"You should stay the night," Combeferre murmurs. "If you want. I mean—"

"Yes," Courfeyrac replies, kissing him softly. "Definitely. _Yes_. Oh, just let me text Marius to let him know that I won't be coming home tonight."

"Oh, god." Combeferre covers his face with a hand. "Jeanne's parents know we're having sex." 

"We're not having sex _yet_ ," Courfeyrac grins as he pulls his phone out and types out a message to Marius. "But we can fix that."

"Yes," Combeferre agrees, pulling Courfeyrac into his lap as soon as the phone is put away. "We most definitely can."

Courfeyrac ignores the nerves this time, straddling Combeferre properly and kissing him hard. They pull away just long enough for Combeferre to take his glasses off. Courfeyrac takes them out of his hands and places them on the coffee table, safely out of the way. Combeferre's hands settle on Courfeyrac's back, steadily moving lower. Courfeyrac hums encouragingly, shifting closer to Combeferre.

They're both hard against each other, gasping into their kiss as they rock their hips against each other. Courfeyrac holds onto Combeferre's shoulders, grinding against him harder. Combeferre moans, and it's quickly becoming Courfeyrac's favourite sound in the entire world. He wants to hear it again, wants to discover every variation of it, wants to dedicate _hours_ to finding new ways to make Combeferre moan.

They break their kiss to pant softly against each other's mouths, one of Combeferre's hands sliding up the back of Courfeyrac's shirt.

"Um," Combeferre says, his hips stilling even though he doesn't move any further away from Courfeyrac. "I think we should move to my bed. And maybe take our clothes off before we make a mess?"

"Good idea," Courfeyrac nods, stumbling to his feet and taking Combeferre's hand, letting him lead the way. 

Combeferre's bedroom, unsurprisingly, has even more bookshelves in it. They turn to each other, laughing nervously as they begin to undress. The moment Combeferre's shirt comes off, Courfeyrac's eyes go wide.

"You have _tattoos_."

Combeferre grins at him, dropping his shirt to the floor. "Yes I do."

"Let me see," Courfeyrac demands, all awkwardness forgotten as he walks over to Combeferre and holds onto his arm.

Combeferre has tattoos on both biceps; a nautilus shell on one, a spiral galaxy on the other, high enough up his arms that they wouldn't show when he's wearing shirts. There's a line of black silhouetted moths going diagonally up Combeferre's back, becoming more detailed the higher they go. There's a life sized moth sitting just over his shoulder his shoulder blade and Courfeyrac traces them all with his index finger. 

"So," he says conversationally, "which do you like more? Moths or books?"

Combeferre lets out a pained groan. "You can't ask me to make those kinds of decisions. It's difficult enough when my brain's blood supply _hasn't_ been diverted elsewhere."

Courfeyrac laughs, kissing Combeferre's shoulder and turning him back around. "I like your tattoos."

"Thank you," Combeferre replies, smiling. "Now, take your pants off."

"Yes _sir_." Courfeyrac smirks at the way Combeferre's eyes widen, making a note to explore that it greater detail later, because there _will_ be a later and he's certain of it.

He's aware of the fact that Combeferre is watching him undress and drags it out for him, raising his eyebrows at Combeferre with a smirk.

"You are ridiculous, and so, so gorgeous," Combeferre mutters, laughing. "Come here."

Combeferre's mattress is so soft that Courfeyrac feels himself sinking into it as he's spread out over it. Combeferre climbs on top of him, kissing all over Courfeyrac's face, along his jaw, down his neck, as he wraps his fingers around Courfeyrac's cock, stroking slowly. Courfeyrac moans quietly, thrusting into Combeferre's fist and pulling him back into a hard kiss. He reaches between their bodies, stroking Combeferre's cock in return.

"Courfeyrac," Combeferre gasps, shifting so that their cocks are lined up together, wrapping his hand around both of them and stroking. 

Throwing his head back, Courfeyrac moans loudly and wraps his legs around Combeferre's waist. They cling to each other as they both rock their hips, panting against each other's mouths. Courfeyrac whines at the back of his throat, pressing his face into Combeferre's neck as he feels his orgasm building. Combeferre strokes them both faster, their movements growing jerkier, desperate, until Courfeyrac comes with a low moan of, " _Combeferre_."

"Courfeyrac, Courfeyrac," Combeferre chants, following soon after, holding himself up so that he doesn't collapse on top of Courfeyrac.

"Oh, holy fuck," Courfeyrac breathes, pulling Combeferre down to lie beside him. "I want to do that again."

Combeferre laughs softly, kissing Courfeyrac's shoulder. "It might have to wait."

"Not _immediately_ ," Courfeyrac amends. "I mean, refractory periods exist, unfortunately. The flesh is weak but the spirit is _so very willing_ , Combeferre."

"I'll get us a towel so we can clean up," Combeferre murmurs, getting out of bed just long enough to do so. Once clean, they discard the towel onto the floor along with all of their clothes and curl up beside each other in bed.

"So I know I haven't even gone home yet," Courfeyrac says, twining their fingers together. "But how soon do you think is too soon for a second date?"

"No such thing," Combeferre decides. "I'm free tomorrow. We'll sleep in, have a quiet morning in, and you can go back to yours for a bit before we meet for lunch?"

"Sounds good," Courfeyrac grins. "…I really want to go down on you. Tomorrow morning?" 

"Condoms are in my bedside drawer." Combeferre indicates the one. "I already want to return the favour."

"Tomorrow," Courfeyrac murmurs, snuggling into Combeferre's side. "Tomorrow's going to be great."

"Yes it will. Sleep well, Courfeyrac."

"'Night, Combeferre. I… like you a lot."

"Was was that you said before? _You think you're in love_?" Combeferre teases, and Courfeyrac hits him softly. 

"Very funny. You're not going to let me forget that, are you?"

Combeferre grins. "Never."

Courfeyrac wraps an arm around Combeferre and shuts his eyes, smiling. He's already looking forward to tomorrow, and on top of that, he's looking forward to properly introducing Combeferre as his boyfriend to Marius and Cosette, to Grantaire, to the rest of his friends. He's looking forward to meeting Enjolras, as Combeferre's friend as well as to talk about practicing law together. He's looking forward to helping Combeferre chaperone the school excursion next week. 

He's looking forward to a lot of things, and he's so incredibly glad for the fact that he'd ended up picking Jeanne up from school this week.

Courfeyrac thinks he might actually be in love.


End file.
